Mark's Ladder
by Cohen101
Summary: PreRent. When ones bed is only accessible by ladder, one better not hope their roommate is Roger Davis. RogerMark friendship, Collins. T for language and sexual innuendos. Just another typical morning in the loft.


_A/N: So next time you watch Rent, especially during the musical number "Rent", or even better yet, "Today 4 U", map out the loft in your head._

_There's Rogers room (there's a bunch of records in it- it's where he storms off to after Angel breaks in) to the left of the door, his own door being made from curtains. There's the bathroom next to that, and then there's the kitchen. Across from that, on the other side of the loft is Mark's film crap. Beside all of Mark's crap there's a small dividing wall, and a couch under a window. In front of this couch, there is a ladder. Behind this ladder is a door and above that ladder is a mattress and blankets._

_A lot of fics have everyone in the loft having their own room, which is fine when you're doing musicalverse, because we can't actually see the loft. In the movie though, you can see it. And thinking about it, it makes sense that there would be no actual rooms with doors in the loft- just spaces divided marginally by walls, other than the bathroom. I mean, Mimi's room in her loft has beads as the door. _

_The relevance of all this is that this fic is based off that/those mattress/blankets have an owner, and explains some of the hassle its occupant may have gone through. _

_Anyways, I give you:_

**Mark's Ladder**

"Roger, give me the ladder back," I request tiredly. The only way down from my 'room' without it is to jump off and attempt to land on the couch under the window. I'm not Spiderman or anything, and I really don't feel like risking a broken bone today because Roger felt like being a douche in the morning.

At first I was a bit skeptical and sketched out about sleeping up so high without any restraints to keep me from falling, but at least I had a mattress up here. And I was safe from any drunks that roamed. Everyone knew better than to try to climb a ladder when they were drunk, and those who didn't couldn't make it up anyways.

And at least I didn't share a room with Roger. Who has the tendency of falling asleep without clothes on, and who lacks modesty in general. I love him, and he's my best friend, but I just don't swing that way.

Rogers face twists into a shit-eating grin and he stares straight at me while he says, "Hey Col, do you hear something?"

Collins, who has just woken up from the couch, glances up at my so called best friend and then follows Roger's gaze to me. I wince. Collins is wiggling his eyebrows and I have a premonition that I'm going to be screwed over by him. "Nope," his grin almost matches Roger's, "Nothing at all."

Traitor, I accuse in my mind while I whine, "Collins! Tell Roger to give me my fucking ladder back."

"Ooh, he's beginning to swear," Collins mocks, laughing.

Roger's still staring at me. "Who's beginning to swear? I don't hear anything."

Fucking. Bastard.

"Roger," I warn and he finally turns away. He starts heading for my ladder, which has been relocated near my film editing machine, where it's completely useless. "Thank you," I say.

Apparently the thanks was premature, because instead of taking the ladder and replacing it where I could reach it, Roger saunters past it and over to my camera. He picks it up and I panic.

"Roger, you're going to break it!" I whine, my fingers curled over the edge of the platform, seriously considering just jumping. All I know is I'm going to kill him when I get down there.

"Collins, you know how to work this thing?" he asks, genuinely confused. Collins shrugs,

"Man, I don't know how to work a normal camera, much less that ancient piece of shit. Don't break it or Mark'll spaz," he warns and I glare at him.

Now they're insulting my camera AND me. I want to throttle them both.

"It's an antique!" I cry in defense as Roger almost drops it, ready to launch into a lecture about it that I known they've heard before. At least a couple times each. I live with a pair of five-year olds.

Roger mutters, "Fuck Col, I thought you were supposed to be a teacher."

"I teach computer age _philosophy. _Not _computers,_" Collins grumbles. "Or at least, I will be soon," he adds. Roger isn't paying attention to him though.

Roger's fiddling with my camera, trying to turn it on.

Roger's pressing buttons and all I can visualize is the film popping out, ruined by his stupidity and curiosity. Or desire to irritate me.

Before I can stop him or shout any kind of warning, he presses a button and the lens pops off.

"Roger!" I shout as he somehow he manages to catch the thing before it falls to the floor where it will shatter into a million pieces. I'm secretly impressed that he caught it. Outwardly, I'm fuming, because the lens cost me over a hundred dollars, and I don't have the money to replace it, which, come to think of it, neither does he. "You break it you buy it!" I shout out, knowing damn well that Roger won't pay for anything. I'm not even sure where he could get a camera like that.

Roger's in Roger-land though, admiring his own save; "Fuck I'm awesome," he grins, looking to Collins for approval. Collins is in the kitchen and already bored with this little game.

Eagerly, I hope that I can sway Collins into letting me down, "Collins, can you get me the ladder?"

Collins blatantly ignores me as he waters down some milk and pours the cereal into a bowl. Fucker.

I turn my attention back to Roger, who's somehow managed to figure out that you need to crank the arm to make it work. I don't know how, but I'm again, amazed. He turns the camera towards me.

"Roger, what the hell are you doing?" I demand.

He grins, "This is Mark. Watch Mark piss his pants cause he thinks Roger's going to break his baby."

"Maureen?" I say stupidly, still not comprehending what Roger wants to accomplish by all this. I'd rather he threaten Maureen than my camera, in all honesty, because at least then I'd know he wouldn't break her. And if anyone can break Maureen, it's got to be Roger.

"No moron, your camera," he snaps, not too happy that his jib didn't work.

I'm, frankly, not too happy with Roger either at the moment. "You know I hate wasting film Roger. Put the camera down and give me my ladder back, please?"

"And miss out on all this fun?"

I take a deep breath. "Collins, please?" I try again.

Collins shakes his head, "I ain't getting between whatever you and Betty have got going on. Keep me out of it."

Great. Every other time he feels the need to be mediator, and now that I'm being victimized he wants to stay out of it. Come to think of it, I'm usually always the one being victimized. Some great friends I have.

"Collins," I whine, my last desperate plea. I'm predictably ignored. Bastard.

I just hope that he won't let it go on for too long.

I really need to pee.

The camera's still turned on me and I'm almost certain that I'm not in focus. "Roger, do you even know what you're doing?" I ask, annoyed. Playing with it is one thing but leaving me with a shitty recording is another. If he'd going to be a jackass, he may as well do a proper job of it.

"Watch as Marky gets his panties in a bunch," he comments. "Or should I say, tidy-whites?"

I sigh as he laughs to himself. "Roger, this isn't a scene in a movie. Now give me back the fucking ladder so I can get down and go to the bathroom!" I demand. I blush slightly when I realize how loud and high my voice had gotten. Collins is even looking at me with slight amusement.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Roger maintains, putting on a blank face.

I want to punch him but I'm getting pretty desperate so I say, "I thought you loved me Roger."

"Aw," he croons. I hate him. I really do. "I do love you Marky," he smiles cheekily. He might love me but the feeling isn't mutual at the moment.

I glare at him, "If you really loved me, you'd stop being an asshole and let me down." Roger shakes his head,

"You've got a twisted sense of the word love," he explains, as if I'm three and asking if the people who have sex for money are in love. Before he can continue the phone rings. It's a piece of shit and it's constantly changing its mind on how many times it rings before going to the machine.

I've already tried to and given up on finding a pattern.

It skips straight to the answering machine after one.

"Damn," Collins says, "We really need to get an outgoing message."

Roger and I both ignore him.

"_Hey guys, it's Maureen. I just wanted to call and tell Mark that-_"

"Maureen?" Roger asks. He abandoned the camera on one of the couches and almost bounces over to the phone. The camera almost bounces off the cushions before teetering precariously on the edge. I almost bounce off my little Perch and have a heart attack.

"Fuck Roger, be careful!" I yell but Roger's already initiated a conversation with Maureen and isn't paying me any attention,

"Yeah, he's here… No, he's kinda… busy," Roger smirks up at me. "Oh, I don't know, he's all hot and bothered." I feel my face go red. Roger has one of those talents where he could make anything he says dirty, and right now he's using it. "He got into the bathroom a couple minutes ago," he winks at me; "Me and Col don't want to bother him though. He's making a bunch of noises that sound like he's-"

"FUCK YOU ROGER!" I scream, hoping that Maureen can hear me, "I'm not in the fucking bathroom and GIVE me my ladder back you bastard!"

Collins starts laughing at me. Roger's grin widens. I'm three seconds away from jumping off the fucking shelf.

"Through the bathroom door, yeah."

Three.

"Probably just getting really defensive. Doesn't want you to know what he does when you're not around."

Two.

"Yeah, I would be sweet if he didn't have his photographs of Jamie Wilson with him…"

One.

I launch myself off the shelf and somehow manage to hit the couch. It's about a nine foot drop, but the couch cushions absorb most of the shock. Nonetheless, being as graceful as I am, I promptly slide off the couch and land on the floor on my side. I swear, giving myself a second to catch my breath.

"Mark, you okay?"

Collins voice is still on the other side of the loft and roll around to glare at him. All I wanted was my ladder so I could get down normally, go to the bathroom and eat something. But no. Now he's asking if I'm okay. Fuck, I would be if they just gave me the ladder in the first place.

"Fuck Mark, I didn't think you were stupid enough to jump," Roger comments sounding worried and a little surprised. Maureen still natters away on the phone but he isn't listening to her.

"Uh, Maureen, I gotta go, alright?" he says rather hastily, slamming the phone shut before she can say goodbye.

Through the pain in my side all I can think about is how pissed she'd going to be at Roger next time they see each other. I sorely want to be there for the encounter. I smile.

"Mark?" Collins gets up and starts across the loft. He kneels down by me a second later, his worried face looking down at me, "You okay?"

I nod and accept his help, grimacing as he pushes me up slowly. Roger hovers a couple feet away, looking ridiculously guilty. "Fuck man," he mutters, not daring to get too close, "I didn't know you'd actually do that."

"Help me up Collins," I request, ignoring Roger. Collins helps me up easily and it only takes a couple of seconds to steady myself. Nothing really hurts that bad, and I turn to Roger.

"Mark?" he asks, his voice quivering. I can tell he's sorry, even if he doesn't say it.

I take a deep breath, ignore him and go to the couch, turning off my camera. I know I'm going to crack soon, but hell, he deserves the cold shoulder for as long as I can manage.

"Mark?" his eyes follow my actions, "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were going to jump," he repeats.

I'm surprised that he's said he was sorry. I guess the image of me jumping out of my shelf, landing, and bouncing to the ground must have been a scary one. It takes a lot to get Roger freaked out, and he sounds like if I were to start crying, he'd be there.

"Mark…" he trails off, begging for me to say something. I know he wants forgiveness, and Collins looks ready in case I'm going to fly at him.

_Now_ the assholes are concerned.

Roger meets my eye and I can't help but forgive him immediately. I cracked even before I jumped. It's Roger, and he can be a complete asshole at times, but he's my best friend. "I…" I trail off, already knowing what I'm going to do. I sigh and shake my head, heading over to the fridge and take out some beans in a can that have been there since before I moved in.

The other two occupants of the room watch me cautiously. Yes, because jumping off the shelf wasn't my version of completely losing it. As if there was something more reckless and dangerous that I could do.

"Mark?" Roger ventures again and this time I turn around to face him, open can of beans clenched tightly in my hand. I put on the most serious face I can muster while saying,

"You better run because I'm going to kill you."

Roger's eyes widen and I start running at him. It takes him a second to evaluate that my threat is authentic, if a little over exaggerated. "Mark!" he yells as he bolts behind Collins and out the door. I just miss grabbing his shirt and we thunder down the stairs two at a time.

When we reach the bottom of the building I keep my momentum as he slows, effectively tackling him into the wall. We tumble to the ground flailing and cursing. Somehow I manage to get him under me. I grin as I hold up the beans, "Paybacks a bitch," I warn, and while he's kicking my back with his feet I pour the beans all over his face and hair.

He splutters a little and his struggle dies down. I let his arms out from under my legs and he wipes the shit off his face. "You just had to fucking do that, didn't you?" he asks. I'm glad that he's not pissed off at me for it, because I've only just realized what I'd done:

Covered my best friends face in expired bean extract.

Smooth Mark, I think, because that wasn't rash at all.

I nod smugly, "Yes. You just had to take my ladder, didn't you?"

Roger grins and everything that has just happened is forgiven, "Fuck yeah."

I climb off him and help him up, careful to avoid getting any of the disgusting contents of the can on myself. We trudge back up the stairs, and close our door before anyone gets too curious or crabby about the noise and comes to investigate.

Collins takes one look at Roger's face and starts laughing.

Roger give him the finger and heads to the bathroom to scrub the shit off.

I calmly replace the ladder under my sleeping area; Collins is still laughing.

Just another typical morning in the loft.


End file.
